


Lying Through Your Teeth

by MaskedCyborg



Category: Original Work
Genre: Sad Ending, Theres multiple things you can take out of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedCyborg/pseuds/MaskedCyborg
Summary: "I think I love you," I say.





	Lying Through Your Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> https://youtu.be/raE3PgwjvWU

"I think I love you." I say.  
  
Im sitting on your bed, feeling the silk of fur between my fingers and I don't hate it, don't think I like it, either. And it's warm and it sounds like nothing, like the content happiness of two people in a room and the comfortable clatter of a keyboards keys and the clicking of a mouse.  
  
There is no context to it because no context is needed; its simple and explanatory. I don't feel my mouth shape the words, feel it awkwardly roll off my tongue in a too casual way. My lap is rumbling, and when I look down there is a smaller, softer animal with smaller thoughts and feelings than me. But who am I to compare my head to - my thoughts are equally as insignificant as its.  
  
(To others; they are not. I consider others. When I was seven my mother sat me down and told me I was an empath, that I felt what others felt as strongly as they did. I knew when someone was hurting, knew when to make the call or send the text. The perfectly queued "you ok?"'s. She told me they will not consider me as I do - I was seven, and I didn't know yet.)  
  
The words feel violent. For how many times I have echoed the words they seem to have more layers to it. It seems right but the taste when I say it is sour, and maybe I am a little shocked, because I thought I did. Maybe I still do. I think love you.   
  
"I love you too." You say after a while, still staring at your screen after a hurried clacking of keys being pressed. And I think I already know, after that, why my chest squeezes tight and my throat feels raw. Maybe love means something different to different people. You keep staring at your screen.   
  
I stare back at mine.


End file.
